Gemotions

The afternoon sun cast long shadows as David slowly navigated his bicycle towards the park. A tightness in his chest made him unable to fully inflate his lungs. He remembered the precise spot, a small hillock, and could easily picture the sturdy trunk of the birch that had been growing there.

He reached the location, and his stomach lurched. The ground was freshly turned, the air thick with the smell of sawdust. The sight made his vision go fuzzy.

He dismounted the bike, his legs feeling wobbly. He stood there frozen, his hands clenching into fists. The gentle breeze rustled the remaining leaves of the other trees, but it seemed to avoid the devastated spot.